Letters from the Dark Side - Star Wars Classic
by Marla Fair
Summary: After a particularly bad, or shall we say, 'dark day, Luke Skywalker writes home.


9

Letters from the Dark Side

Marla F. Fair

 **Letters from the Dark Side**

Marla F. Fair

Leia.

I never told you.

I couldn't.

I couldn't find my way back. Back into that moment.

There was no help. No one wiser…older than me left. There was….

Only me.

And I failed.

And what was worse, it felt _good_ to fail.

I don't think I could have told Yoda. I might have told Ben. I think I could have spoken to our father. But you? No.

You're perfect, Leia. You _can't_ fail. Never will.

How could you understand?

It's been about a month. A month since the Death Star died. About a month since our father died. Since I fought Palpatine…and lost. A month since I gave in and crossed the line. I wanted to kill Vader. I could have – _would_ have. My fear for you proved too much. I let go. Opened up. Reached out and let it in.

The black beast. The thing that haunts me.

The dark side of the Force.

And now it grows like a cancer. I can feel it. I can taste it like iron on the tongue. I smell it when I breathe. I see it when I wake.

I _am_ it.

I have to go back. Somehow. Even though the Death Star is gone. I have to go back to that place where I surrendered and find myself again.

Even if it kills me.

I know you won't understand. That's why I left this behind for you to find.

By the time you do, I will be gone.

Artoo doesn't know where I am. Don't let Chewie take him apart. And tell Han, yeah, I know – I'm stupid.

I have to do this, Leia. Please, understand. I can't really explain how I know, but if I don't go, the brother you just found – the one you fear to lose – will cease to be.

And just might become your killer.

There is something in me. Something dark and deadly.

And it's growing.

I have to beat it. Have to find a way to get it out of me –

Or die trying.

I love you Leia. Always remember that.

Luke.

OOOOOOOO

Leia.

You won't be able to find me. Don't try. I'm far away now, but I lied before. I _was_ very close. You should have been able to sense me – you would have – but I clouded your mind. I can sense _you_ now. Sense your anger and frustration. I know you're angry. You have every right to be, but I couldn't let you stop me. Not now. Not when I found it.

What I was looking for.

I wore holes in the soles of my boots walking from one side of the Endor moon to the other. I finally took the blasted things off and threw them away. Then it was better. Better because my feet didn't hurt, but more than that, better because I made _contact._ The minute my naked skin touched the ground the lifeblood of the moon rushed into me –

pounding, pulsing in concert with my own blood. We became one.

Just the way I needed it to be.

I searched the green jungle of thigh-high grasses and tangled twisted woods knowing it was there…somewhere. I swam Endor's clear blue waters and climbed its' rolling hills. I sat on high mountain perches. I stretched out my hands and became one with the wind and the rain, the lightning and the thunder. And in this way –

I found it.

When I held it in my hand, I remembered. Remembered things I had forgotten. Forgotten or buried so deep I no longer knew them. His death was beautiful, Leia. Our father's, I mean. In the sacrifice and surrender, Vader was transformed – even as I was. My weakness became his strength, drawing Father toward the light, even as it thrust me into the darkness.

When I close my eyes I can see Father's face. He is at peace, Leia.

 _Peace._

Bear with me, okay? Peace is what I have to find.

I remember the brilliant wall of light behind me, the fiery explosion as the Death star died – its dying gasp hurling me and my small craft away. I felt it die, Leia. Really _die_. An evil as powerful and seductive as the Emperor's taints whatever it touches. And I think Palpatine put so much of himself into that cold lifeless monster of a machine that it came alive somehow.

Hey, don't tell Han about that one. Okay? He thinks I'm crazy already.

But _you_ understand, don't you, Leia? You know what it's like. You remember what it was like when you felt _me_ call. I felt the Death Star's disbelief as it realized the end had come and then, as the explosions erupted deep in its belly, I knew its anger and mindless hate. I followed each and every bit of that malignant soul as it sped past me to fade away into space or strike the surface of the Endor moon.

And I knew if I could find the right piece – something Palpatine had actually touched – then I would be able to find my way back.

Back to the place where I failed.

What I was hunting lay buried deep beneath the surface. I could have uncovered it with the Force, but using something good and pure like that to resurrect such evil seemed wrong somehow. I broke my nails and stained my hands with blood before I found it. And when I did, well….

I'm still trembling. Not from exertion….

But from fear.

In my black-gloved fingers, mechanical as the Death Star itself and dead as the Emperor – dead as our father, as any hope I ever had of escaping his fate – I hold a piece of Palpatine's throne. It's the armrest where his hand rested – the hand that crackled with cobalt lightning, drawing the life out of me.

The hand that beckoned me to the Dark Side.

The hand that beckons still.

I'll write again….

If I can.

Luke.

OOOOOOOO

Leia.

It's cold. Ice Cold.

There's no light. No life. No…

Me.

So many deaths. So much destruction. Such grief.

Such unholy _joy._

I didn't know. Couldn't imagine. Never thought that in reaching out I would become what I hated most. That I would become _him._

Palpatine.

Leia, how can I explain it? It's what I feared and yet, deep within me, what I secretly knew I wanted as I towered over Father with my light-saber raised, prepared to strike him, to end his life – to destroy the Destroyer.

I _am_ the Destroyer.

I am destruction.

I am the end and the beginning, the Force wind and the dark lightning. The shrieking stars and the whirling planets. I am more than a man, more than human, _more_ than a mere mortal – I am everything.

 _Everything!_

I can see clearly now for the first time. Ben, Yoda, the other Jedi. Weaklings. Puppets puffed up with power, with no master at the strings. If only they had listened. If only they had understood as I do now. We are the chosen. We _are_ the gifted. Listen to me, Leia, you are one of us. We are meant to rule, to reign, not to pacify. All that we are is wasted when we hold our power in check, when we bow to the unruly, un-ruled masses – when we refuse to take matters into our own hands. People are weak. Their wants are great and their wills, puny. They need a guiding hand. A strong hand like the one that lay upon the cushioned arm of the Emperor's seat.

Palpatine's dead, Leia, but I am alive.

I am alive and my hand is ready. I can feel the power coursing through me. Feel the lightning crackle and watch it leap from my fingertips. I can hear the Emperor's laughter in my ear, encouraging me, whispering in that parched tone, 'Yes, yes, at last my apprentice, you understand. At last you are ready to take my place! At last….'

It's cold, Leia.

Ice cold.

So many deaths. So much destruction.

And it's all mine.

OOOOOOOOO

Leia.

Sorry if I scared you. That last message, well…it wasn't me. You know me. Luke, the good kid. The one who always does what's right. The one who shines so bright with the Force that you have to shield your eyes when he walks into a room.

Luke Skywalker, the hero.

Right….

Who am I kidding?

It _was_ me.

I guess you never know what's in you until you're pushed to the limit and you have to choose whether to plunge over into the abyss, or crawl back on your hands and knees from the edge.

Crawl back. Yeah, right. I didn't crawl back, I had to be pulled away. I didn't want to be saved. I wanted to dive over head first – wanted to plunge into the dark wave that was Palpatine's evil. Immerse myself in it. _Be_ it.

But he stopped me.

You remember how cold I was? Frozen – not with fear but with fascination? Leia, I know you can't begin to understand. Everything is so clear to you. There are no areas of shadow in your life, just dark and light. I think you must be like our mother. I don't remember her, but I bet she never wavered, was never confused. I guess I'm like our father.

Anakin and Luke. Luke and Anakin.

Members of the brotherhood of shadows.

Shadows.

They enveloped me. Darkness covered me, muffling the Emperor's laughter and blinding my eyes to the Force lightning's power. Like a cloak the blackness swaddled me, protecting me – holding me safe as an unweaned babe.

And then I heard him.

That voice. Deep. Resonant.

Labored.

Vader.

'Luke. Luke…listen to me."

Father?

He stepped from the shadows. A tower in black. 'Luke. Get…hold of yourself! Fight, son…fight!'

No. This is what I want.

'It isn't. Luke, you…know better. Remember Ben. Remember…Yoda!"

I remember shifting, stretching, seeking an escape hole in the blackness that he used to surround me. Vader's words were odd. Not _his_ words.

They used to be mine.

That thought brought a cold comfort that was a fire that pricked me.

Ben and Yoda were weak, I answered. Fools! I used the words that Palpatine had whispered in my ear. Words _he_ had once believed. They were weak, like I used to be, I said. Now I am strong. _Now_ I am powerful.

'Now,' Vader countered, 'you are lost.'

The inky blackness that surrounded me grew until it blotted out the stars, until it enveloped the universe, until it was all there was. And on that plain of jet there were only two who existed.

My father, Darth Vader, and me.

'Luke?'

I am not lost, I answered, my voice breaking. Like you were once, I am found.

He was silent for a moment, and then he approached me, gliding on the black sea without effort. I noticed as Vader drew near that he was tall and powerful, but not so tall or powerful as I remembered. When he reached my side he held out his hand – the one I had sliced off.

It was whole.

As I stepped back, astonished, the sonorous voice spoke again – this time softly, gently.

Kind.

'Take my hand, son. That's all you have to do. Let go of the Emperor's and take mine. I will lead you out of here.'

I stared in horror at that hand, knowing what I had done. Words failed. No, I said, with a shake of my head. No. This is what I deserve.

I mean….

Desire.

Vader withdrew his hand. As if he agreed with me. And the inky blackness grew cold and close as the grave. Then, with both his hands he reached up to remove the black mask.

And Anakin Skywalker smiled at me.

'Son. Like a shard, a splinter of darkness, the decision you made on the Death Star poisons your soul. Else Palpatine would not be able to tempt you so.' He held his hand – that hand of flesh – out once again. 'Do not let it destroy you.'

I shook my head. It is too late, Father.

'Luke,' he continued. 'If you were evil, you would not have tried to save me. Would not have put your own life in jeopardy. Think of that!'

I was guilty. I did it for myself, I answered.

'Why were you guilty? If you are evil, you would know no guilt.'

Yes.

No.

'Son, if you are guilty of anything, it is of giving up too easily, of doubting your own strength.'

Strength? I laughed. I have no strength.

I am weak.

'And in that weakness, you are reborn. Weakness made you stay your hand from killing me. _Weakness._ Is that not what Palpatine would have called it? Luke, a wound can strengthen us. Loss can bring us gain. You must not seek to hide from the evil that is within you but to understand it, to use it as a path to the light.'

A path? To the light?

He nodded. 'You were a child when you faced me, Luke. A _gifted_ child, but a child still. Now you must become a man. Do not run from that which is within you as I did. Running will only bring you to the place you seek to leave behind. Turn! Face the darkness within your soul, learn from it, make it a part of who and what you are so that it no longer has power over you.

'So that _you_ have power over it.'

I can see you frowning, Leia. And hear Han's mumbled curse.

But Father was right.

Only in totally surrendering to what I feared was I able to overcome.

I'm tired, Leia. Tired like I have never been. I need to sleep. I'll write tomorrow, I promise. And don't worry. You know where I'll be resting?

In my father's arms.

OOOOOOOO

Leia.

I'm almost home. I bypassed the seeker call from you and checked in with Threepio. If Han is really going to feed me to the Wampas, I think I'll skip the invitation to join you for supper.

Really, I'm sorry I made you worry.

But I'm not sorry for what I did, even though it's hard to explain why I did it.

Heck, I bet you're tired of hearing that. It's what you get for having a Jedi for a brother. We didn't get to pester each other as kids. I never got to pull your braids or push you face down in the mud. Guess I'm just making up for lost time.

Ben tried to explain it to me. Yoda warned me about having my head in the stars. Always thinking.

Father thought a lot too. The trouble was, once the darkness got into him, he recognized it, but he never faced it. He never found the courage to look into the mirror of his soul to see why the stain was there.

Not until it was too late.

But he helped me so I could.

Palpatine's still here, Leia, just beneath the surface, screaming to be released. But his power's gone. When I looked into that mirror I saw myself – I saw that lonely boy on Tatooine who longed for recognition, who wanted to be known, who had to be the best. The boy without a father or mother who cursed the fates that had dealt him such a blow. The boy who didn't want to be a man, but wanted a man's power.

The boy I used to be.

I've put away the child now. I've grown up. I guess I have Palpatine to thank for that.

And Father.

I think I need a little time alone, Leia. To sort things out. I'll see you soon. I promise. Tell Han to stop pacing. I'm fine. And scratch Chewie's neck for me.

I love you, Leia.

Sister.

Gee, that still sounds funny, doesn't it?

Love, Luke.

P.S. Oh, and check on Artoo. I told Threepio I was okay, but I don't think he believed me. You know how he is. Han'll kill me if Artoo's whining keeps you up all night.


End file.
